Séance
by candycity
Summary: <html><head></head>- There is no Alice that can bring back the dead. NatsuMikan.</html>


A lot of people misunderstand his Alice. He doesn't blame them, really; if's a curse that all Dangerous Ability students have to live with.

Having the Ghost Manipulation Alice isn't the worst thing in the world. It isn't a fourth-form Alice, for one, like Natsume's. It isn't completely stupid, like that Gold Dust Alice. He probably should be more grateful.

"_Yo-chan_." He flinches and turns at the familiar voice.

"Mikan nee-chan," he greets without enthusiasm. "When did you get here?"

Mikan lifts a shoulder, appearing perfectly at ease. Youichi knows better, though. He's just a kid, but he knows enough to recognise that wistfulness, that deep, unfathomable sadness in her eyes.

But other than that, she looks just the same: she's dressed in the summer uniform, with her hair in a messy braid at her shoulder. She's even _smiling_, which he probably shouldn't be so surprised about, because it's Mikan and she's never made much sense, anyhow.

There's _definitely_ something stuck in the back of his throat, because for some reason, he can't bring himself to say a word.

"How's everyone?" she asks, and before Youichi can stop himself, he snorts.

"What do you think? Hotaru's locked herself in her lab for the past two days. Ruka doesn't talk to anyone anymore, just spends all his time in the barn. And Natsume -" Youichi's chest aches at the thought of the man he's always considered to be his older brother, "Natsume...it'll take him some time."

Mikan looks contemplative.

"Everyone misses you, you know," he says.

She offers him a small smile. "I know. I miss them, too. Especially him." She falls silent for a while, before pressing on bravely, "But I can't meet them, can I? It'd probably do more harm than good."

They both know what she means by 'them'.

Youichi sighs. "It's only a matter of time before he comes to me, you know."

"I'm sorry," she tells him. He shrugs.

"It always happens," he says, because if he said _it's no big deal_ or _I'm used to it, _he'd be lying. "Maybe this is better. A clean break, you know."

"There's no such thing," Mikan corrects him gently, "and you know it as well as I do. But Natsume'll get better. He's strong, you know. You're so much like him."

A gentle breeze rustles the leaves of the Sakura tree, and a few pale blossoms drift from the branches to the ground. Mikan glances up in mild surprise, like she'd just realised where she had been standing.

"He'll be coming soon," Youichi says, as if he'd read her mind. "You'd better go."

Mikan gazes at the distance. "Just a glance," she says softly, "I just want to see him, just for a second."

He hears the crunching of footsteps. "Mikan nee-chan," he says, warningly, "He's coming. You have to go."

The familiar silhouette appears; messy hair, broad shoulders. A glimpse of deep crimson.

Mikan hesitates. "Don't look," she says.

Youichi complies. When he opens his eyes, she's gone.

The wind picks up; but it's not quite enough to drown out the calls of his name.

"Youichi!"

He braces himself, and turns around. Natsume is standing there.

His eyes are wild; his shirt is buttoned up the wrong way. He looks like he's been through hell and back. If Youichi had been a less courageous person, he would've turned tail and ran. Or, worse, given him what he wanted.

But even at thirteen, he is brave. He's almost as tall as the man before him, whose every step is heavy, like he's in pain.

At this distance, he's able to pick up the deep shadows under his eyes.

"You look like shit."

Natsume's expression doesn't change, and the intensity of his gaze is frightening.

"Bring her back."

It's not a request. Youichi stiffens; the winds whisper a warning.

"You don't know what you're asking," he says instead.

"_Fuck you_," Natsume hisses, the curse ripping from his throat, harsh and guttural; Youichi flinches. Natsume never swears around him.

"Go back, Natsume-nii," Youichi says. "She's gone, and she isn't coming back."

"Let me see her!" His voice is almost a scream; his eyes are flashing, wild and uncontrollable; the temperature is rising rapidly.

Youichi stands his ground.

"No."

"_You_ -" He lunges. In his state, he is half-blind, fumbling and careless; but still, he is fast, and he is strong. Youichi moves out of the way half a second too late, and a cry escapes his lips as he is flung back, his back crashing into the tree.

The sound seems to wake him up, and Natsume freezes. The fire seems to drain from him, and he looks so desperate, so pathetic, that any anger that Youichi feels dissipates instantly.

For a second, there is no sound but the whistling of the wind and the Natsume's irregular, ragged breathing.

"'_There is no Alice that can bring back the dead',"_ Youichi says, reciting the familiar words dully. He glances at Natsume's expression: and it is sheer, heartwrenching anguish.

He looks like a dead man already.

When he finally speaks, his voice is like broken glass:

"Is she...in pain?"

His question is so unexpectedly childish, and it's like a knife to his chest, really, because this man, usually so strong and confident with drawling voice and arrogant smirk, is standing there, eyes haunted, tone wavering and unsure, his whole body _trembling_.

Youichi shakes his head, ignoring the lump in his throat. "She misses you," he says, simply. "She wants you to know...you're strong. You'll be okay."

A familiar voice echoes in the wind, and Youichi almost grins at the words. So stupidly naive. So ridiculously innocent.

So completely _Mikan_.

"'_Be happy, Natsume_,'" Youichi repeats. "_'Smile. For me._'"

He doesn't need to be told that the words are hers; and something in his expression cracks. His back against flush the Sakura tree, he slides slowly to the ground, eyes filled with an unfathomable, unrestrained grief.

Youichi recognises that expression. They are the eyes of a person who has had his heart torn from his chest and left hanging. They are the eyes of a person who has loved, and lost.

For a few moments, he stands there, eyes closed, listening to the wind for a few more seconds before turning to leave.

**:.:**

As Alices go, being able to command and communicate with the dead isn't all that bad.

But days like these, he really, really hates his Alice.


End file.
